


And brother if you have the chance to pick me up?

by riptxdes (fukmylyf)



Category: Dreamer Trilogy - Maggie Stiefvater, Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Fluff, Gen, I'm Bad At Tagging, Irish dancing, Talent Shows, fuck niall lynch, i do not know enough about irish dance to write it though im sorry, i just think it would be funny if they were all forced to learn irish dance, less so this time than last time but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:39:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27720115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fukmylyf/pseuds/riptxdes
Summary: Matthew's performing at a talent show, and Declan's desperately hoping that he and Ronan will get through this night without fighting. For Matthew's sake.
Relationships: Declan Lynch & Matthew Lynch, Declan Lynch & Matthew Lynch & Ronan Lynch, Declan Lynch & Ronan Lynch, Matthew Lynch & Ronan Lynch
Comments: 10
Kudos: 28





	And brother if you have the chance to pick me up?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Supernaturalaholic12](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Supernaturalaholic12/gifts).



> title is a line from brother by gerard way
> 
> thank you to Supernaturalaholic12 for listening to me ramble at 4am about this garbage pile its yours now ily

Declan and Ronan couldn't agree on much, but they could agree on one thing: Matthew Lynch was better than they'd ever be. With that mutual understanding, they made a point of putting up with each other as best they could around him, though this was easier said than done. Declan was well versed in hiding things from his brothers, having spent the better part of his short life lying through his teeth to them, but Ronan prided himself on his honesty, and it was a trait that was going to make Declan tear his hair out. As it was for right now, he settled for digging his short nails into the palms of his closely clenched fists and sighing through his nose. This was for Matthew. _This was for Matthew_. 

"Ronan," he said, in a tone that meant _shut up_. "It's one night. You can pretend for one night."

The talent competition had already begun, and he and Ronan were late by half an hour, mostly because they'd narrowly avoided another physical fight after Declan had made a comment about Ronan's attire and Ronan, being Ronan, had decided to respond by calling Declan a stuck up prude with a stick up his ass (Declan was _not_ a prude, he just valued his personal appearance, thank you very much). They were here now, though, and Declan was trying his best to quell his anger so he could ride out the rest of the night without a splitting headache. 

Ronan grunted in response. "I'm just here for Matthew, I don't know why the fuck _you_ insisted on picking me up. We don't even have to fucking sit together."

"You know he'd want us to."

Ronan's silence was answer enough. Matthew _would_ want them to sit together. The youngest Lynch wasn't stupid, he knew his brothers struggled to get along at the best of times, but with that came the knowledge that he was the only thing really keeping them together. So yes, to see them sit together of their own volition would make his night, which meant that Ronan and Declan were going to grit their teeth and put up with each other for the rest of the night. 

They made it half an hour. Matthew's performance must've been one of the later ones, which was bad, because Ronan was getting antsy and Declan's head was starting to pound. He didn't know how many more loud pop songs or sad longing ballads sung by kids who couldn't have possibly known heartbreak he could sit through, and while Ronan's running commentary, muttered in a low voice that got him a lot of glares from the parents sitting on either side of them, was admittedly hilarious and he couldn't disagree with any of it, it was starting to get a little overwhelming when he was trying to focus on pushing off a killer headache. 

A gentle acoustic number strummed it's last chord, and as the singer guitarist walked off the stage, the host for the night came on to announce a short break, gesturing to where the crowd could find refreshments, before he was promptly cut off by hundreds of antsy parents and annoyed students standing up noisily as the lights turned on. Declan winced at the sudden noise and light. Ronan shot him a look, so he nursed his face into something more neutral, mimicking an easy smile. 

"You can cut that shit out, you know?" Ronan said, voice like a serrated knife, but tone almost edging towards concern. "Nobody actually gives a fuck if you feel things. Just take your meds and get over yourself."

Declan smirked, caught off guard by the sentiment. "Careful, Ronan, people might think you care." 

Ronan scoffed, shoving past Declan roughly to head in the direction that most of the crowd had gone. Declan pulled his wallet out of his pocket, sliding out the pack of painkillers he kept stashed in it. He popped two in his mouth, swallowed them with a little difficulty, and followed after Ronan. Finding something to drink to wash the meds down would help. Hopefully they would've kicked in a little by the time he entered the throng of chatting adults and he wouldn't need to try so hard to smile in his usual charming way and move from conversation to conversation easily. He did recognize a few of the faces in the crowd as he stepped into it, parents he'd met at parent teacher events, or PTA meetings, and while he knew they all judged him privately, not quite understanding how he, at barely 20, had been left in charge of 16 year old child, they played nice.

Although it seemed he wouldn't have to converse much, as Ronan was lingering by the exit of the auditorium with two cups of coke in one hand and a fudgy brownie in the other, peering over the heads of everyone in the room with a glare. Declan stopped next to his younger brother, elbowing him lightly in the arm. 

"Have you found him?" he asked. 

Ronan shook his head, shoving the rest of the brownie into his mouth. "Don't think he's left backstage yet," he responded, spitting crumbs, and he offered one of the cups to Declan without looking back.

Declan took a sip of his drink, shoving one hand into his pocket and leaning against the doorframe next to Ronan. Ronan slumped against the wall next to him, downing his own glass of soda as he glared across the room. Declan wondered how they must've looked, him in a collared shirt with a grey sweater over it, black chinos, so completely uninteresting he may as well have blended into the off-white wall, next to Ronan, in his boots and ripped jeans and baggy tank top, his tattoo sticking out from under it, looking ready to fight anyone who tried to speak to him. 

Judging by the way his acquaintances avoided making eye contact, Declan figured they had to look pretty weird. 

He nudged Ronan's arm with his elbow, and nodded at one mother, her hair done up with too much backcombing and hairspray. "You know that kid with the really shitty comedy act? His mom's the head of the PTA. Makes the worst chocolate chip cookies but is convinced she'd win Great British Bake Off if she joined it. She got kicked off the voting panel for tonight when we found out her kid was participating."

Ronan snorted, then scanned the room before pointing at another lady, who was wearing a floor length white kaftan and too much chunky jewelry. "What's her deal?"

"Her husband got rich investing in tech, so now she dabbles in several MLMs and keeps trying to peddle her essential oils at meetings. Her kid is awful, but she keeps insisting he’s an angel and hasn't done anything wrong. I don't think he's performing tonight, because like I said, he's an asshole who's only talent is beating up kids younger and smaller than him," Declan responded, nonchalantly sipping at his coke in order to hide a smirk. 

This was nice. It was… odd, getting along with Ronan, he mused, draining the rest of his cup and tossing it into a nearby bin. They'd never really been close, but he remembered when they weren't always at each other's throats, and wished he'd been nicer. He'd always felt like the black sheep of the family, never got a chance to relax and just play like his brothers did, always on edge and trying to keep things afloat, at first to impress Niall, maybe get him to pay attention, and eventually because he knew Niall wouldn't, and his brothers would be at risk if he didn't. And then Niall died, and Ronan had looked up to him, and Declan had tried his hardest to care but he couldn't deny that the first thing he felt after the funeral was _relief_ , and it made it so much harder to be there for his brothers so he did what he did best, and closed off, and made everything as smooth as possible in every way but emotional. 

So. This was nice. It was different, it was weird, it was uncomfortable, and he was sure that when the sun rose they would go back to barely speaking unless they were fighting. But tonight, for Matthew, they were brothers, maybe for the first time ever. 

"Matty!" Ronan called out, crushing his own cup in his hand, and Declan spotted a familiar mop of blond hair in the crowd, beelining towards them. Matthew tackled Ronan in a tight hug, before switching over to Declan, who pressed him close and hid a kiss in his curly hair. 

"How are you feeling?" Declan asked, holding Matthew out in front of him and scanning him up and down quickly. He was dressed up, in a black button down with a white tie, tucked into black slacks, though he wasn't wearing his hard shoes yet. Declan figured he'd left them backstage. He felt a little spike of anxiety at the thought (what if Matthew lost them, what if someone stole them, what if what if what if), but Matthew just grinned at him, batting his hands away. 

"I'm fine, chill out, it's just a dumb talent show," he said, and, well, he was right, but Declan hadn't chilled since he was a toddler, and he didn't feel like starting now. 

"When the fuck do you get on?" Ronan asked, shoving Matthew's shoulder gently. "If I have to hear another fucking Justin Bieber rip-off pretend he's the next, I don't fucking know-"

"Freddy Mercury?" Declan supplied. Ronan barked a laugh at that. 

"They fucking _wish_." 

Matthew was laughing, nearly doubled over, and Ronan and Declan exchanged a look. It was worth getting along, for this. 

"Anyways," Ronan concluded, yanking Matthew into his side and ruffling his hair, "if you don't win this stupid fucking competition, we'll know it's rigged." 

"I think that was the most painful half hour I've ever sat through," Declan added. "If any of them win, I'm suing for emotional damage." 

Matthew giggled, and sometimes Declan forgot he was a dream, but other times he'd see Matthew so unapologetically happy and it was impossible to forget he was anything but. "It can't be that bad," he said, trying to wrestle his way out of Ronan's grip, digging an elbow into his brother's stomach.

Ronan had him in a headlock, affectionately giving him a noogie, and Declan wanted to yank Matthew out, straighten his shirt and fix his hair, but Matthew was fine, and this was fine, and Ronan was laughing, rough and deep too, so he wasn't going to ruin the moment. "I thought Declan's head was going to explode," Ronan confirmed, finally releasing Matthew, who punched Ronan in the arm before straightening his shirt. Declan took the chance to reach over and mess with Matthew's hair, ruffling it gently into something resembling styled. Ronan snorted.

"You're way too fucking young to be a single mom, Dec," he said, and Declan shot him a glare. 

"First of all, not true, don't be fucking close minded, and second of all, come here," he said, grabbing Ronan by the back of the head and yanking him down so he could try to smudge a few brownie crumbs off the corner of his mouth. Ronan sputtered and shoved Declan off, and Declan snorted, hiding a laugh behind his hand. In the auditorium, the sound of mic feedback rung out, loud and high and painful, drawing another wince out of Declan, prompting twin glances from Ronan and Matthew, first at each other, then at their oldest brother.

"You don't have to stay if your head's hurting," Matthew said, resting a hand on Declan's shoulder. Declan shook his head, shrugging Matthew's hand off and offering him an easy smile. 

"I'll be fine, Matty, promise. Sounds like you'll have to go backstage soon, you ready?"

Matthew nodded. "I've been practicing every day for the last week, Declan, I'm fine."

From the auditorium, the host announced that they would be starting again in five minutes if everyone could please get seated, so Matthew hugged his brothers quickly before dipping into the crowd again, and Declan went to go find their seats again. 

Ronan grabbed his arm, pulling him away from the door and the throng of people now filing through it. 

"I can text you when Matty's up," Ronan said, voice low, and Declan fought down a hot flash of anger. He was fine. He'd taken his meds, and he didn't need babying, he'd handled much worse than a noisy crowd and bad singing. 

"I'm fine, Ro, drop it, I'm not made of glass," he hissed, yanking his arm free. 

Ronan rolled his eyes. "Shut up. No one's fucking saying you can't handle shit. It's just-" he cut himself off, fiddling with the leather straps on his wrist for a second before sighing aggressively. The side room they were in was basically empty now, and an usher at the door was watching them nervously. "Fuck it, fine. If you pass out or some shit, though, I'm not carrying you out."

"Wouldn't expect you to," Declan replied coolly. He gestured through the door and Ronan stormed through, Declan pausing to press his fingers against his temples and breathe, one, two, three, before he followed, throwing a sympathetic smile to the usher as he went. 

They sat next to each other in silence as the show started back up, the host stammering through an introduction as a band of sixteen year olds with too much hair spray set up behind him. They weren't… terrible, Declan had to admit, but they weren't anything he hadn't heard before, indie pop schlock that was nice enough to listen to but not interesting enough to care. Ronan's running commentary hadn't started back up, which made it worse, honestly, and Declan just drummed his fingers against his thigh as he waited for Matthew's turn on stage. 

Another wannabe Ed Sheeran, an offbeat tap dancer and a stiff piano performance later, Matthew comes on stage, scanning the crowd and beaming when he spots Ronan and Declan, waving at them a little. The host stepped off, the lights dimmed besides one shaky spotlight focused on Matthew, standing at the back of the stage on the far right, and the theater fell quiet. 

Matthew closed his eyes as the music started, breathing, counting, and Declan could see him mouthing something to himself as he began, tapping across the floor in time with the music towards the center of the stage, leaping off the ground as he went, and Matthew was grinning, his eyes open now as he spun and leaped and tapped across the stage (Niall would've told him off for that, that maintaining a stern expression was important, but Declan never had the heart to, and he didn't regret it, especially now). His footwork was amazing, and he felt Ronan lean forward as it sped up gradually, and Matthew never stumbled or faltered, barely breaking out in a sweat. He had come back to the center of the stage now and caught his brothers eyes, grinning broadly at them as he danced. 

The music came to a finish, and Matthew bowed deeply, laughing a little when he straightened up. Ronan and Declan were on their feet cheering for him, which felt distinctly out of place from the polite clapping the rest of the audience had offered, but Declan didn't much care; that was his brother, and he wanted Matthew to know how good of a job he'd done. He felt unbelievably proud, and while it wasn't the first time Declan had seen him dance, wasn't even the first time he'd seen him perform this routine (he'd spent many a weekend watching Matthew and coaching him while he worked through homework), it still felt like the first time every time. 

There were a few more acts afterwards, although Declan was hardly paying attention to any of them, chatting with Ronan in low voices about how good Matthew had been, and how they were definitely getting him pizza after this, and how if he didn't win they'd be complaining for sure. Lights flooded back into the theater, and the host came on stage to ask everyone to treat themselves to more refreshments as they worked out who had won. Declan and Ronan made their way towards the back, ready to find Matthew so they could shower him in praises. A few of the parents congratulated Declan on Matthew's performance, and he thanked them warmly, offering them easy smiles. 

"It's fucking creepy how you can do that," Ronan commented, once again scanning the room for his little brother. 

"Do what?" Declan asked, glancing up at him. 

"Fake being all- charming and shit. It's weird."

Declan snorted. "It's called having manners, Ronan, you could afford to learn a little."

Ronan rolled his eyes. "I have manners," he muttered, kicking at the ground a little. 

"You do not," Matthew replied, grinning. "That's ok, though, they're a little overrated." 

Ronan grabbed Matthew in a hug, lifting him off the ground a little. "You fucking bastard, you were amazing!"

Matthew giggled in response, trying to wrestle out of Ronan's grip. "I don't know, I think I did ok-" 

"You did amazing, Matty," Declan said, grinning. "You don't need to be modest about it."

"If you don't win, I'll fight the judges my fucking self," Ronan added. 

Declan nodded. "I couldn't stop you, that would be completely justified."

Matthew shoved Ronan off of him and glared at them both. "If I get expelled because you brawled with the judges, I'll never speak to either of you again." 

Ronan started laughing at that, earning him a light shove from Matthew. Declan forced down a smile, reaching forward to ruffle Matthew's hair. 

"So, where do you want to go for your victory dinner?" 

Matthew rolled his eyes. "I might not win!"

"Unlikely."

"Fucking improbable." 

He sighed, conceding defeat. "Can we grab burgers and head home? I want to be out of this outfit."

"Alright, but we can't stay up too late, both of you have class tomorrow-"

Matthew and Ronan groaned in unison, and before Declan could start back in again, an announcement rang out that they were ready to pick the winners. Matthew perked up, looking equal parts nervous and excited. Declan put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. 

"Hey," he said, voice low, just for Matthew. Ronan was watching them, eyes warm. "You did great, and you don't have to win, ok?" He paused, mulling over his words as people shuffled back into the auditorium around him. "I'm just incredibly proud of you for getting through it, and for how much work you put into it, too."

Matthew nodded, smiled at him, a small one that betrayed his nerves, and Declan pulled him into one more hug before he released him, clapping on his shoulder. 

"Are you going to be ok?" Declan asked, and Ronan scoffed, grabbing his arm to drag him back into the auditorium. 

"Alright, Matty, go kill em," he called over his shoulder, and Matthew giggled and turned to head backstage again. "And you, lay off him, he can take care of himself."

Declan shrugged his arm free, following Ronan closely back to their seats. "I'm aware. I just-"

"Worry, I know. Chill the fuck out." 

Declan shrugged again, dropping into his seat. Ronan sat down next to him. 

"You worrying is making him worry worse, you know?"

Declan glared at him, and he just shrugged casually, leaning back and pressing his feet against the seat in front of them. Declan tapped his knee and he dropped them back on the floor, but didn't stop. 

"Matthew worries about you, too. The more anxious you get about him, the more he's going to worry about you. I need you to chill out at least when it comes to him, because I'm not putting up with both of you assholes panicking over each other." He folded his hands behind his head as he finished, his eyes on the stage, where all the nights performers were gathering to await the results. 

Declan didn't respond, kneading at his lap instead. He knew Ronan had a point, but it was hard to _stop_ worrying, when his whole life was framed around worrying for his brothers. Matthew was the easiest to fuss over, because Ronan wouldn't let him, but to just stop, at all, felt impossible. He wanted to make sure that his brothers had the childhood he couldn't. 

He was pulled from his thoughts by the announcer, introducing the judges. Another PTA parent, the music teacher, and the headmaster. Ronan was leaning forward, fingers drumming against his thighs, waiting, tense all over. Declan smirked. Ronan was stupidly competitive when he cared, and he wasn't sure Ronan was joking about going up to fight the judges if Matthew didn't take first place. 

Third, someone Declan didn't recognize, so he assumed he'd performed before him and Ronan had arrived. 

Second, Matthew. Ronan cursed, and Declan smacked him across the back of the head before clapping and cheering. 

He didn't pay much attention to the honorable mentions, too preoccupied with how happy Matthew looked, holding a shitty plastic trophy and some sort of gift card, and Ronan muttered a long string of curses when one of the singer guitarists took first place. The event was over, and Ronan was still cursing as they went out to the carpark to wait for Matthew. 

"That was fucking ridiculous, how the fuck did he not get first place, this is fucking- this feels like a hate crime, it's because it was a traditional dance, not some fucking- pop music bullshit, right? It has to be, I can't fucking believe this, can we sue on grounds of discrimination?"

"Ronan. It's a high school talent competition."

"Still! What the fuck!" he yelled, attracting glares from the other families leaving, and Declan shot them an apologetic look. 

"Can you please fucking keep it down?" he hissed, unlocking the car. Ronan glared at him. "It's going to bite Matthew in the ass if anyone feels threatened by his skinhead brother yelling discrimination in the parking lot."

Ronan rolled his eyes, slumping against the car, pouting. 

"He should've won, though," Ronan said. 

"Absolutely."

"We're being oppressed for being Irish."

"Ronan, we're American."

"We're fucking Irish-American."

Declan rolled his eyes, then pulled out his phone to text Matthew. _Ronan's complaining about discrimination, hurry up before he tries to sue someone._

A second later. _im omw!!! tell him if he starts a fight ill cry_

"Matthew said if you try to start a fight, he'll cry," Declan relayed. Ronan huffed. 

"I'm not going to start a fight," he growled. "They're the ones who fucking started it-"

"No."

"Fuck you." 

Declan snorted, and checked his phone when it buzzed again. _do u or ronan want cookies, nates mom made a bunch for us_

"I want one," Ronan said, leaning over Declan's shoulder. _Ronan wants one._

_ok has he stopped trying to sue ppl? bc hes not getting any otherwise_

_I think, for the most part at least._

_ill b out soon btw mr richards wont shut up_

Ronan barked out a laugh at that, slumping back against the car. He drummed his fingers against the hood, staring up at the night sky. It felt… odd, seeing Ronan quiet and peaceful and calm, and he wondered how much of that was his fault, for not reaching out sooner, for not being kinder, for not being able to make it work. 

There was laughing at the entrance to the school, and a small group of students and parents spilled out, breaking the silence. Matthew sprinted over to his brothers, yelling goodbyes over his shoulder. 

"I'm starving, let's go let's go let's go!" he yelled, climbing into the backseat, bouncing in place. 

"Cookie first," Ronan responded, dropping into the passenger seat and Matthew laughed in response, and Declan thought, maybe, maybe they were getting better. Maybe they'd have more nights like this. 

**Author's Note:**

> i will never stop projecting on declan, also im sorry if this is ooc i just want them to get along so bad ok


End file.
